


I'll wear red for a burning

by aphrodite_mine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Community: rainbow_support, Domestic Violence, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'll see her later, freshly washed and thickly powdered, Robert subdued over some blackened bird. They'll kiss her cheek and she won't flinch, her dark eyes meeting Robert's over the table, her knife poised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll wear red for a burning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaila](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaila/gifts).



> Thanks to beverytender for the beta. The title is from "Killing the Love" by Anne Sexton.

_Honor_ purples her cheek, matching the crushed red she holds -- grateful -- to her lips in a silver gilt goblet. The drink will stain her lips, her tongue, and Cersei will be darkened. She sits at the table in her bedroom, far from the eyes of her fair-haired children. They'll see her later, freshly washed and thickly powdered, Robert subdued over some blackened bird. They'll kiss her cheek and she won't flinch, her dark eyes meeting Robert's over the table, her knife poised.

She closes her eyes briefly as she sips, thinking of him. The subtle terrain of his unmarred skin shining over the tangled sheets, her fingers pilgrims wandering up the uneven passage of his spine. Jaime turning his head, hair catching the light and her eye. "Do I pass your inspection, my lady?" His playful grin soft around the eyes. 

Cersei takes another swallow, the bite of the drink long since faded. She thinks of the red sliding into her, settling, seeping outward. Red meeting black meeting flesh and turning gold. 

This isn't the first time Robert has hurt her, damn him. (She's done damage too, long red marks against his chest, his back. Far from the public eye. Nothing so _stupid_ as a throbbing handprint across his lips.) This isn't the first time she's spent the sunset hours locked in her chambers, her only companion a glass of wine he can't afford. 

"I'll kill him," Jaime said, once. A thousand times. "I'll slice off his rotten cock, gut him, stamp the mess into the stones of this place." He'd pace, boots hitting the floor with a charged rhythm, the sound echoing through her bones, settling against her cunt. "You deserve better, sister," he'd say, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other catching the hair at the back of her neck. 

"I _have_ better," she whispers into the growing dusk, shifting. She presses her lips together, gentle, and conjures up his hands on her shoulders, soft but insistent, clearing away fabric in favor of skin. _Soon,_ she thinks and pours herself another cupful. Soon Baratheon will answer for his hands, for his girth, for the years she has spent -- tight-lipped and smiling -- at his side, watching as he accepted kisses from children who have never known his blood. 

"So serious, sister," Jaime says, his mouth at her breast, tongue flicking. "Tell me: when did you last smile." Her hand skates his side, his body humming with warmth and light. 

"I forget how," she says, pushing at his shoulder, lips curling upward at the corners when he goes willingly to his back. She straddles his hips with her own, tasting the corner of his jaw, running a thumb over his pulse. Quickening. "I forget how when you are away for so long." He stiffens beneath her, hands quickly finding purchase at her hips.

Cersei flattens her palm against his chest, thrilled to find the same shade between her fingers.

She sits back, allowing the pressure to build slowly and break. The movement is sure, and as she shakes her hair loose down her back, Cersei finds herself laughing from wide lips.


End file.
